


Only Light

by badskippy



Series: Tintin Tales [6]
Category: Adventures of Tintin (2011), Tintin (Comics), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rape, Sad with a Happy Ending, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Evil pays a call ... and both Tintin and Captain Haddock will suffer for it.





	Only Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiedwithribbons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedwithribbons/gifts).



> Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. - Martin Luther King Jr.

* * *

 

_Darkness._

_Why can't I open my eyes? ….. Wait. I can't move my arms; my arms are killing me …..Why can't I move them?... God, please stop my head throbbing! ….. Why is it so dark ….. Deep breath ….. God, I'm cold ….. Why is it DARK?_

_Blindfold. I'm blindfolded._

_Try and think … Where am I … What the hell happened?_

         Tintin took a quick breath in as he shook his head to bring his mind more into focus. It was then that he realized that his wrists were bound and his arms were pulled above his head. He tried to move his legs and realized that his ankles were also bound together.

         He struggled to remember; he remembered going into his old room and putting on his pajamas. He was heading back to the master bedroom when … when he heard something downstairs. He went to investigate and ….. that was it. That was all he could remember.

_Where AM I?! Where's Archie?_

         Noises. To Tintin they sounded far off or at least, they weren't in the room where he was. He had a sudden urge to yell out but he squashed that immediately. If he were here, possibly alone, that would mean that Archie was clearly not about or else he too was tied up near by and probably unconscious. Or worse.

         The sounds were getting louder; getting closer.  _Something is being pulled along the floor. No, dragged. But what floor? Where is here?!_

_God, so hard to think …. STOP THROBBING!_

         Tintin took a few more deep breaths in an attempt to keep calm.

_That's it, just breathe …. I need a clear mind; clear mind … .In – Out – In - Out …...Where am I?!_

         Tintin's head cleared but his temples were throbbing. He tilted his head back and it came in contact with a hard surface. He could not quite twist his hands around in the binding but he felt rough stone.

         Tintin now clearly heard footsteps and it was obvious that something was being dragged. Something heavy. He had a bad feeling he knew what was being dragged; or who. The footsteps were very, very close now.

         "Who's there," Tintin demanded, "who are you?"

         "Well, look whoz jast woke up!" Answered a deep male voice with a thick cockney accent. Tintin felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck; the voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. From somewhere inside him, he knew;  _there is danger here_.

         " _Who are you_?!” He had to know. Someone in him told him that if he knew who was behind this, he would be easier to come with a plan. “I demand you tell me!" Tintin knew he was clearly in no position to demand anything but his instinct was to show no fear. "And where is Captain Haddock?!"

         He heard the dragging stop and felt that there was a presence near him; in front of him as a matter of fact. He could smell someone; it was not pleasant.

         Tintin flinched as a large, calloused hand grabbed him around his throat and there was a foul breath right on his face; it smelled of cheap tobacco and ale. There was also a smell of dirt and filth; a mildew smell mixed with old sweat – he was reminded of dirty shoes or socks.

         "I doesn't owe you nuffink!" Said the man, giving Tintin's throat a squeeze before letting go. "Now, shut your guff or I'll shut it for you!" A hand slapped Tintin across the face hard and his head was thrown to one side; he tasted his own blood.

         "Where is Captain Haddock?" Tintin asked again but felt that he didn't really need to ask.

         It was several long seconds before there was a response. "Down't worry yerself, don't want the bleeding tosspot to miss the party now, doze we?

         "I fink it's time we all sees the light."

         Tintin smelled the man close by as his blindfold was ripped from his face. There wasn't a great deal of light but it was enough that Tintin closed his eyes and opened them slowly to adjust. He looked up and into a face he had hoped he would never see again.

         Directly in front of him was Allan Thompson; Captain Haddock's traitorous former first-mate.

         "YOU?!" Tintin was shocked.

         "Hullo, faggot," Thompson spit in Tintin's face.

         Allan Thompson had been using Haddock's ship, the  _Karaboudjan_ , to assist Sakharine in discovering the Unicorn scrolls. To accomplish this, he had been keeping Haddock drunk as a skunk all day. Thompson thought that when it was all over, he could rid himself of the Captain and take the ship for his own narcotic smuggling operation. It would have been all so easy; except he hadn't counted on Tintin to assist Haddock in escaping. Together they had exposed Sakharine's and Thompsons' plans, and after the two men were convicted and sent to prison, Haddock and Tintin thought they had seen the last of Allan Thompson.

         Tintin knew he had to keep a cool head. He quickly looked around to take in his environment. He was tied to a stone pillar, a Gothic vaulted ceiling stretched out above it and a stone statue was to his right; the statue of St. John the Evangelist.

         He was in the cellar of Marlinspike Hall.

         It was still night as the cover-less windows near the ceiling were black. There was no electricity down there so Allan had lit a couple of candles. They did little to light the place adequately and absolutely nothing to dispel the gloom.

         "Where's Captain Haddock?!" Tintin demanded for the third time.

         "Keep yer hair on, tosspot!" Thompson said with a sneer as he stepped out of Tintin's view.

         "ARCHIE!" Tintin cried out, his fears realized. Haddock was tied up and propped against the base of the pillar opposite; his hands were behind his back and thick rope bound his ankles and knees together. His head was slumped to his chest but Tintin could see him breathing.

         "Archie! Archie, can you hear me?" Tintin waited for a reply that didn't come.

         "Looks like old Haddock's havin' a bit a trouble wakin' up," Thompson said as he walked over to Haddock and gave him two backhands across his face.

         "Stop it!"  Tintin struggled to get free but the ropes were too tight.  "Leave him alone!"

         "Time to get up, Captain!" Thompson gave Haddock another backhand and then landed a punch in his gut. Haddock let out a great explosion of air as the wind was knocked out of him and he slowly opened his eyes, clearly trying to focus. Even in the poor light of the candles, Tintin could make out the large bruise that blossomed around Haddock's right eye and cheek. There was blood at each corner of his mouth as well.

         "What in blazes is going on!" Haddock said in a confused but angry voice.

         "Just havin' a reunion, Captain," Thompson said bending down and yanking Haddock back up to a sitting position against the pillar.

         "Allan?!" Haddock spat out when he had caught his breath. "You filthy pig! You sorry son of a sea-cow!" Haddock twisted and struggled against his bindings but they held fast.

         "Now Captain! That ain't no way to greet an old friend, is it?"

         "You're no friend of mine, you filthy fucking -" A swift kick of Thompson's steel-toed boot to Haddock's side cut the Captain short and caused him to fall over to his side. Haddock let out a grunt of pain and Tintin was sure he heard a cracking sound when the boot landed; a broken rib.

         Thompson grabbed the front of Haddock's shirt and once again righted him and threw him back against the pillar.

         "Don't makes me kill you!" Allan spat out. "Sees, I got this whole fing figured out and youz don't have no say about it!

         There was a click and as Allan grabbed Haddock by the hair, he pressed a switchblade against the Captain's cheek.

         "Here's how we're playing it, Captain. First, your little pillow-biter here and I are gonna have a bit of fun whiles you watch. Oh, don't fret none; I ain't gonna kill him – not yet anyways. No, I wanna make sure he can sees as I kills you. And before youz die, I'm gonna cut his stinking throat ... that ways, the last fing youz'll see, is his life running out."

         Tintin went cold as Haddock fought again against the ropes.

         "YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHITE!" Haddock was beyond rage; he growled and bared his teeth like a grizzly bear. "You lay a FUCKING hand on him and I swear I'll rip your FUCKING THROAT OUT WITH MY BARE HANDS!"

         That earned the Captain another couple of kicks and a backhand across the mouth.

         "I fink I've heard enuff from you!" Thompson whipped out a thick, dirty cloth and shoved it into Haddock's mouth. Haddock vainly continued his struggle against his restraints and although Tintin could not make out his words; clearly just a muffled tirade of threats and curses at Thompson.

         Tintin tried to think of anything; any way to get out of this mess.

 _Nestor! God, we need to get Nestor!_  But the thought died instantly. He had immediately remembered that Nestor had left in the early evening for Brussels to catch a flight back to England. A telegram regarding his brother; some urgent medical issue.

         Tintin put two and two together.

         "You sent that message to Nestor, didn't you?"

         "Very good," Thompson said with a cruel laugh. "Not bad for a stupid little poof. But I guess thats whys youz the reporter, now innit?"

         Tintin had no idea what to do now. They were alone, the other staff didn't live at the Hall and they wouldn't be in until morning. By then, it would be much too late. Tintin tested the ropes again but nothing; they held tight.

         "Now, let's see here shall we?" Thompson said, walking over to Tintin.

         Thompson towered over Tintin and the stale stink of him rose up and filled Tintin's nose; it was disgusting. It spoke of the gutter and made Tintin want to vomit. The switchblade was raised and put up to Tintin's face.

         "Now, youz be a good boy, and I won't accidentally slip and cut anyfing off." Tintin's eyes grew wide in horror and Allan just laughed.

         Thompson looked at Tintin's pajama top, and slowly slid the blade down the front of his pajamas. The silk threads holding the buttons were nothing to the blade and one by one they clattered to the ground; Tintin was now exposed and Allan used his dirty hands to open his top.

         "Not bad.” Thompson ran his free hand over Tintin's torso. “I can sees whys Haddock fancies himself a bit of you." Thompson grabbed first one nipple and then the other, twisting them both painfully. Tintin cried out and he heard Haddock's muffled curses increase in strength and volume. Thompson ignored Haddock. He took the blade again and placed the tip just under the waistband of Tintin's pajama bottoms; a swift flick upward and the material ripped. Now Allan grabbed each side of the cut and pulled, shredding the bottoms until they fell to the floor around Tintin's tied ankles.

         Tintin was now naked from the waist down, chest exposed in the open shirt above. Tintin shivered, not from the cold, damp air; no he was scared, terrified. He was exposed, vulnerable; naked in both body and spirit. Never had he been this afraid. Allan stood in front of him and Tintin couldn't even look at Archie for strength or comfort.

         "I don't have much use for these, really," Allan said, grabbing Tintin around the base of his cock and balls and gave a rough, tight squeeze. Tintin screamed out. He saw stars and his whole body contracted. He was actually getting sick to his stomach and he wasn't sure he could keep from throwing up.

         "Let's see what else you gots to offer a man." Thompson turned Tintin around, pushing his face into the stone pillar. Now there was nothing to see, only feel and Tintin shook with terror as Allan placed his hands on each hip and ran them down Tintin's buttocks and thighs.

         "That's more like it. Like a peach you are. I wonder if you bruise easily." Allan removed his belt and swung it hard across both cheeks. This was a beating, plain and simple, and Allan hit harder each time. Tintin cried out with each strike as they slammed him into the stone pillar. His skin scraped and pulled along the rough stone; his ass stung and burned; he felt welts forming. Finally, Allan took the bottom of Tintin's ruined pajama top and drew it up, tucking it over Tintin's shoulders. His back was now exposed. Allan resumed the whipping on Tintin's back as well as ass.

         "I bet you like this don't you?" Allan said, stopping to press himself against Tintin's body and reaching around to cruelly grab and squeeze Tintin's balls again.

         "Please stop! Please!" Tintin was beyond being strong. He was in pain and it filled his mind, his world. He felt humiliated, weak, small. There was nothing but hurt and blood and pain and fear and he just prayed for it to end.

         "Oh, we ain't done yet, lovely." Allan cooed with his stinking breath in Tintin's ear. "We needs to make sure your fudge packin' tosspot of a boyfriend here sees what youz really likes." Allan removed one hand from Tintin and spit into it. Tintin was shocked to feel the rough callused hand move over his ass crack and push two fingers up to his hole.

         "Nice and tight you is." Allan continued to push harder until he had gotten both fingers full inside Tintin's ass. It was nothing more or less than a violation of his being and Tintin began to cry. "Don't pretend with old Allan. I knows you loves it dontcha? Dontcha?" Thompson continued to push in and out of Tintin's hole. Tintin was in so much pain; he arched his back and tried to move away but of course, there was nowhere to go. "Hey Captain?!" Thompson said, turning to look over his shoulder at Haddock. "Now I know why you likes this little poofter; he can't get enuff of it!" Thompson laughed. "Time for the main event I fink."

         Thompson stepped back and yanked Tintin around the pillar so that now he could see Haddock tied up and sitting against the opposite pillar, still struggling and cursing behind his gag. Haddock had a clear side view of Tintin's naked form and his rage was only contained by the ropes.

         Tintin then heard the releasing of a zipper.

_OH GOD NO! NOT THAT! PLEASE NO NO NO NO_

         Thompson spat and there was suddenly the sensation of his spit-wet cock against Tintin's ass crack. Tintin tried to clench his ass together but it hurt so much. Allan continued to push harder. Tintin looked over at Haddock with wide terrified eyes and tears streamed down his face. Allan paid no attention to his crying and finally, as the cock head met with Tintin's hole, there was an explosion of pain that shot through him. It was near blinding and Tintin closed his eyes and screamed; just screamed. Tintin felt something warm begin to run down his inner thigh turning cold as it descended. He was bleeding.

         Thompson continued to push until he was fully in and then he grabbed a fistful of hair and bent Tintin's head backward, while at the same time he pressed the cold steel of the switchblade against his neck.

         "Make any more sound and I'll slit your neck!" Allan hissed and he began to pump his cock in and out of Tintin's hole. The pain was constant.

         Tintin's world was only torment and pain and the humiliating shame. He was powerless, weak, nothing. He prayed for strength because part of him wanted to die.

         Allan continued to thrust and he had started to grunt. It was disgusting and Tintin finally felt the switchblade lower from his neck as Allan steadied himself.

         It all happened suddenly; there was a loud muffled growl and Tintin was thrown up against the pillar as Allan's cock suddenly withdrew from his ass. Tintin's eyes flew open but he could see nothing behind him. The Captain was not in view either and it sounded like Allan had fallen to the floor.

         "YOU FUCKING BLEEDING SOD! I'M GONNA CUT YOUR BELLY OPEN AND SPILL YOUR FUCKING GUTS!" Allan screamed at the top of his voice.

         Allan loped back into view, dragging Haddock along the floor with him. Tintin surmised that Haddock had somehow been able to get to his feet and launch himself at Allan. Even bound and gagged, his Archie had done what he could to protect him. But it was a one shot and now Allan had the upper hand again.

         "Where's that fucking blade?!" Allan saw the switchblade laying on the floor near Tintin's feet and picked it up; holding it with the point down.

         "NO! STOP! PLEASE DON'T HURT HIM! PLEASE!" Tintin begged.

_THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING NO NO NO STOP PLEASE NO GOD PLEASE PLEASE_

         Allan took one menacing step towards Haddock, who was now laying on his side staring up at Tintin; if he was going to die, he wanted Tintin to be the last thing he ever saw. Allan raised the blade above his head and Tintin's scream filled the cellar.

         THWANG; the sound of metal meeting a solid object.

         Allan took one more staggering step forward and spat out the word "Christ!"

         THWANG; another strike.

         Allan dropped the blade and then fell face forward into a heap next to Haddock. Tintin was shocked to the point of lightheadedness.

         Turning his head, he saw Nestor walk into view holding a large, ornate silver candlestick in one hand. He was still dressed in his overcoat and traveling clothes.

         "My apologies for not arriving sooner," Nestor said in his usual casually calm voice. "It would seem that my timing is a bit off."

         Tintin let his head hang back and he began to cry again; never had he been so happy to see the old butler as he was right then.

         Nestor bent down, placed the bent candlestick on the floor, and picked up the switchblade. He then cut the ropes at Haddock's feet, knees and hands in quick succession. With his hands freed, Haddock reached up to pull out the gag. Nestor turned and walked over to Tintin, meeting his gaze but never once looking down at Tintin's naked form. "That must be a most uncomfortable position, sir," Nestor said dryly as he reached over Tintin's head and cut his arms down. Tintin felt a wave of relief as his arms were now free to fall. Haddock was suddenly there to wrap his arms around Tintin and steady him as Nestor bent down and freed Tintin's ankles.

         "Nestor! Lend me your coat," Haddock said and after receiving it placed it around Tintin's shoulders. Haddock pulled Tintin into a warm embrace, encircling him with his strong arms.

_Over it's over were both safe we're not dead Archie not dead alive and safe_

_"_ Archie," Tintin said, not looking up or moving. "I don't want to be here anymore. I never want to come down in the cellar again."

         Archie didn't say anything; just held on tight and half-carried Tintin out of the cellar, both weary and wounded.

         One of the worst parts of the ordeal had been at the Emergency Room. Tintin had to recount the particulars of the story over and over for the police, the doctors, everyone seemed to have questions and needed verification of one thing or another.

         Tintin had vaguely overheard Nestor telling Haddock and the police the story of how he had returned home. Apparently, he was halfway to Brussels; had forgotten the telegram in his room; called the manor to get the information (line busy) and when he called his brother's house, he actually got his brother. Sensing something terribly wrong, he returned as soon as possible. It had been a lucky coincidence.

         Lucky. That was a word that Tintin couldn't quite wrap his head around.

         The doctors had finally given Haddock and Tintin the all clear to return to the manor. They had wanted to keep Haddock over night because he did indeed have three broken ribs and his repeated blows to the head were thought worthy of continued monitoring. However, when Haddock had threatened to take apart anyone who attempted to keep him there while Tintin returned home alone, the doctors thought it best to release him into his own care.

         The medical staff had said that while it was lucky they both were alive, there was no sign of permanent damage. Tintin almost laughed out loud. Damage was all that he felt at the moment.

         Haddock, on the other hand, had become increasingly quiet as the night wore on. By the time they had arrived back home, there was nothing but silence.

         Tintin retreated to the great room. Anything smaller was out of the question for him, they all felt claustrophobic. There was a huge fire in the hearth and he took up residence on the large leather couch facing it. However, even fully dressed, the fire a blaze and a blanket wrapped around him, he felt cold. Cold that sank deep into him and didn't let go. His mind began to whirl, like dirty water circling a drain.

_filthy stench never get the smell out of my nostrils weakness fear pain blood helplessness shame so much shame weak I'm nothing; Archie hurt in pain injured almost died almost so close to death so close Archie I need you where are you I can still feel that man's hands callused hands touching me_

         Tintin flinched and quickly moved to the corner of the couch. It was only then he realized Haddock had come up and it was his hand Tintin felt.

         Tintin wanted to say he was sorry, wanted to say anything but the words died before they could be formed. Haddock looked at him with a face like thunder, full of anger, but he said nothing. He just turned and walked out of the room.

 _He is disgusted by me_ , Tintin thought.  _He saw me for what I am, weak and mewling. A spineless coward who didn't have the power to even defend himself. Like the priests used to say, only the weak and miserable cry._

         Tintin was now spent and he curled up in a ball on the couch and cried.

         Haddock liked the dining hall. It was large and yet still felt private. He raised his glass and took a large gulp of whiskey. The deleterious effects of the alcohol were wonderful at dulling the pain of his ribs. Medication would never have given this kind of result. Besides, the whiskey was great at helping him forget. At least, that was what he told himself.

         He’d wanted to talk to Tintin. But how could he talk to the boy when he knew that Tintin had no use for him? Tintin had even refused to go into their bedroom to rest. Clearly wanting to be anywhere other than near Haddock. And now he was just sitting on the great room couch, watching the fire, not speaking. He was obviously disgusted by Haddock even being near. Why the boy had even pulled away from his touch.

         He blamed Haddock for what had happened, and Archibald knew it. How could he not? Haddock did. He had let Tintin down, had just laid there powerless and weak; an old man. He had failed Tintin in every way possible. He shouldn't expect any regard from Tintin; he didn't deserve any.

         Haddock took another large gulp from his glass. The whiskey was certainly taking its time working.

 _Just like me_ , Haddock thought.  _Slow and ultimately useless._   _Maybe I need something stronger for it to work_.  _Like a backbone._

         Nestor had seen and heard much that morning to shake his resolve but he refused to let anything interfere with his duties. He walked into the dining hall first and found Captain Haddock at the long dining table.

         "Excuse me, sir," Nestor said. "Cook was wondering if you and Master Tintin would care for breakfast."

         "Breakfast?" Haddock was shocked. "What time is it?"

         "Just before nine, sir."

 _Only nine?_  Haddock thought it was much later than that. "Ah, you may want to ask Tintin if he would like anything. I am not hungry," he said, lifting his glass and saluting Nestor. "At least not for solid food."

         The butler didn't move and stood there for a few long seconds before he had had enough.

         "I do not believe that is the best thing for you now, sir."

         Haddock threw him a wild-eyed look that would have frightened most men. Nestor stood his ground. "Donnea tell me what I do and don't need!"

         "With all due respect, sir. I seriously doubt you will find what you need at the bottom of that bottle. You may be better looking on the couch in the great room."

         Nestor then turned and left a stunned Haddock staring after him.

         Looking back at the bottle and the clear amber liquid within, he realized that Nestor was right – there really wasn't anything at the bottom of the bottle he needed.

         There was a discreet knock behind him and Tintin turned to find Nestor at the doorway.

         "Yes?" Tintin asked.

         "I am sorry to bother you, sir, but the cook was wondering if you wanted breakfast or anything at all to eat."

         "No, thank you. But please go ask Captain Haddock. I don't think he has eaten anything at all."

         "I already have, sir. He suggested I ask you. He, of course, has refused."

         "Refused? Why?"

         "He stated that he was fine with just the whiskey."

         Tintin closed his eyes and put his head in his hands and thought,  _Of course, I have driven him right back to the bottle._

         "Are you alright, sir?"

         "Yes, Nestor," Tintin said, looking back at the fire. "I am fine."

         Nestor didn't say anything but continued to look at Tintin intently. It wasn't long before Tintin realized that Nestor had not moved and he turned back around.

         "Is there something wrong?" Tintin asked.

         Nestor seemed to mull this over a moment or so and then said, "It's just that, in all these years Master Tintin, I have never had you lie so boldly to my face." With that, Nestor turned and walked out of the room.

         Tintin sat in silence and just held on to the back of the couch. He finally had to admit, he had lied to Nestor. He was far from fine. Tintin was suddenly hit with an ache and a pull within him. He stood up and cast the blanket aside and began to slowly but determinedly walk.

_Archie, I need Archie. I need him now._

         Tintin came into the dining hall and found it empty. There was a bottle of Loch Lomond whiskey and a partially filled glass next to it on the table but no Haddock in sight. He went to the library and found it empty as well. A slight panic hit him and he sprinted up the stairs. He opened the door to Haddock's private study and saw him on the phone. Haddock turned and looked at Tintin and gave him a wink and a small smile before turning back to the phone and writing on the pad next to it.

         "That's right, at least three; front, back and one at the gate." … "Yes, today." … "As soon as possible." … "What are their names?" … "Got it, Thank you. Goodbye." Haddock hung up the phone. He stretched and turned to Tintin, motioning for him to come closer. Tintin closed the distance in two strides and they pulled each other into a close embrace.

         "Who were you talking to?" Tintin asked.

         "Security. I just hired a company and they will be out this morning at eleven." Haddock looked down at Tintin and both saw the raw emotions of the other.

         "How do you feel, mon petit?" Haddock whispered, caressing Tintin's face.

         Nestor's comment echoed through him and Tintin looked at Haddock and whispered, "Broken." Tears fell again but this time, there was a release as if a heavy weight had been lifted.

         Haddock's heart felt like breaking but he knew, Tintin needed him; they both needed each other.  _No more self-pity, old man,_ Haddock thought _, no more nonsense or tomfoolery_. He pulled Tintin into a cocooning embrace and cradled his head like one would a baby. Haddock gently swayed in one spot and Tintin finally felt the icy cold feeling ebb away. He was safe and warm and exactly where he needed to be.

         Tintin snuggled into Haddock's chest. He was warm and the feeling of safety enveloped him. He opened his eyes and caught the vision of the morning sun illuminating the stained glass window of the study.

_We may be shattered like stained glass panes but our love will warm us. We are where we belong, for we belong to each other._

_No darkness can touch us for long._

_Our love is our light._

 

 

 


End file.
